Grannies Remedy

Peter Howden

It's hard to tell a true story, particularly when there is no real story to tell just a collection of happenings. I have told peoples some at various stages in my life but to put pen to paper is a different game altogether. Some found them amusing and some found them hard to swallow but they are all true and the names have not been swapped to save embarrassment. When I say they are true it is worthwhile remembering that my vision of truth may or should differ from persons mentioned within, so it lies mainly with the reader.

As a young boy and growing adolescent I suffered badly from dreaded spots and boils of all shapes and sizes. As the years have passed this embarrassment state has been explained as normal growth behaviour for teenagers of the male gender but while in action this became a constant harassment. The boils would spurt out with surprising speed and I would look in the mirror just before leaving to go out, and I would certainly see one or even two maturing on my neck. A look further on and there was a spread around my lower chin. Other boys had boils but they never seemed as big or as sore as mine. My affliction in tow I managed to struggle through life and carry on to marry the girl of my heart. Life was now appearing colourful and bliss until the fateful day

.

A few days before that particular morning dawned, it became obvious that a boil had travelled far. This singular inflamed swelling had settled between the cheeks of my bottom. I did not know how big it actually was, but it felt like a volcano erupting pain. Rebecca and I had been married for only a few weeks and we were still on honeymoon really and totally inexperienced in life or its funny ways. Rebecca could remember a remedy to rid of boils handed down by her great Gran to Gran to mum and then to her of a magic poultice made up of heated sugar, soap and kaolin and just thinking about it now brings tears to the eyes.

I lay on the bed face down while the gently warmed substance was placed between my bare cheeks and this mountain of a boil. After a short period we both realized that it was not being of any good and my wife suggests that it is not hot enough. The second attempt was totally different for the mixture was heated as far as she dared and then a couple of minutes extra for good measure like all good novice cooks do. The chosen wrap around the mixture was too small a piece for the amount of mixture made, expanded by heat I think, so when it was placed a second time it hit raw flesh. Well it was such a shock it forced my cheeks together which made the mixture act like super glue while the force of the clam tight cheeks spurted the by now huge extra stuff out in all directions but mainly the ravine of my exposed bottom.

I was never a great athlete at school but with my new overheated aid I leapt upwards into the air from my lying position to what I believe a hairs breath away from the ceiling of our Victorian room returning back to bed in a cat like posture screaming 'get the buggering thing off'. This created a panic in Rebecca, much the same as a chicken that has had its unfortunate head chopped; she grabbed the only piece of cloth showing and pulled with feverous vigour. Unfortunately as she pulled more of this home made larva discovered virgin skin relatively unscathed which lead to my second leap. It was not as high a leap as my first but it did manage to squish the remaining mixture forcing me to squeal in a very high pitch which I have since never been able to repeat and I wish not to. After such an ordeal you would imagine that the very boil would have at least burst but no way. Rebecca argued convincingly that since I had been to hell and back, and to rid myself of this boil once and for all, that I should try a course that her Granddad swore by. On reflex ion I now know why Granddad swore and called me a fool but by now I was past reason or thought and also my threshold for pain or so I believed.

I watched my wife prepare a heavy old milk bottle by heating it up in water just below boiling. She explained that by heating the bottle and placing it on the skin it would act like a kind of vacuum therefore suck up the boil puss and all. You may find this hard to believe that there was no sensation of pain what so ever when it was placed surrounding the offending boil and she insisted that for it to work she would count up to twenty before removing the very hot bottle with the two towels wrapped around it. I was extremely embarrassed by now but the count came to an end seemingly without success until Rebecca tried to remove the bottle which was rock fast. She had no choice but to give a violent tug and being in an awkward position lost her grip on the bottle leading to my third leap but my screams by now were muffled by muteness.

The aftermath was cream placed gently on the whole area and I was told the boil was indeed burst. A few days later, with the aid of mirrors, I was able to see for myself and all that remained and to this day is a perfect red ring mark.

My lovely wife has never had a boil or if she has, she never told me.